Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
Mr. McNabbs,” replied Robert, “Kai-Koumou is left alone with the warriors of his canoe… . . Oh! one of them is coming up here… . .”
“Come down, Robert,” said Glenarvan.
At this moment, Lady Helena who had risen, seized her husband’s arm.
“Edward,” she said in a resolute tone, “neither Mary Grant nor I must fall into the hands of these savages alive!”
And so saying, she handed Glenarvan a loaded revolver.
“Firearm!” exclaimed Glenarvan, with flashing eyes.
“Yes! the Maories do not search their prisoners. But, Edward, this is for us, not for them.”
Glenarvan slipped the revolver under his coat; at the same moment the mat at the entrance was raised, and a native entered.
He motioned to the prisoners to follow him. Glenarvan and the rest walked across the “pah” and stopped before Kai-Koumou. He was surrounded by the principal warriors of his tribe, and among them the Maori whose canoe joined that of the Kai-Koumou at the confluence of Pohain-henna, on the Waikato. He was a man about forty years of age, powerfully built and of fierce and cruel aspect. His name was Kara-Tete, meaning “the irascible” in the native tongue. Kai-Koumou treated him with a certain tone of respect, and by the fineness of his tattoo, it was easy to perceive that Kara-Tete held a lofty position in the tribe, but a keen observer would have guessed the feeling of rivalry that existed between these two chiefs. The Major observed that the influence of Kara-Tete gave umbrage to Kai-Koumou. They both ruled the Waikato tribes, and were equal in authority. During this interview Kai-Koumou smiled, but his eyes betrayed a deep-seated enmity.
Kai-Koumou interrogated Glenarvan.
“You are English?” said he.
“Yes,” replied Glenarvan, unhesitatingly, as his nationality would facilitate the exchange.
“And your companions?” said Kai-Koumou.
“My companions are English like myself. We are shipwrecked travelers, but it may be important to state that we have taken no part in the war.”
“That matters little!” was the brutal answer of Kara-Tete. “Every Englishman is an enemy. Your people invaded our island! They robbed our fields! they burned our villages!”
“They were wrong!” said Glenarvan, quietly. “I say so, because I think it, not because I am in your power.”
“Listen,” said Kai-Koumou, “the Tohonga, the chief priest of Noui-Atoua has fallen into the hands of your brethren; he is a prisoner among the Pakekas. Our deity has commanded us to ransom him. For my own part, I would rather have torn out your heart, I would have stuck your head, and those of your companions, on the posts of that palisade. But Noui-Atoua has spoken.”
As he uttered these words, Kai-Koumou, who till now had been quite unmoved, trembled with rage, and his features expressed intense ferocity.
Then after a few minutes’ interval he proceeded more calmly.
“Do you think the English will exchange you for our Tohonga?”
Glenarvan hesitated, all the while watching the Maori chief.
“I do not know,” said he, after a moment of silence.
“Speak,” returned Kai-Koumou, “is your life worth that of our Tohonga?”
“No,” replied Glenarvan. “I am neither a chief nor a priest among my own people.”
Paganel, petrified at this reply, looked at Glenarvan in amazement. Kai-Koumou appeared equally astonished.
“You doubt it then?” said he.
“I do not know,” replied Glenarvan.
“Your people will not accept you as an exchange for Tohonga?”
“Me alone? no,” repeated Glenarvan. “All of us perhaps they might.”
“Our Maori custom,” replied Kai-Koumou, “is head for head.”
“Offer first these ladies in exchange for your priest,” said Glenarvan, pointing to Lady Helena and Mary Grant.
Lady Helena was about to interrupt him. But the Major held her back.
“Those two ladies,” continued Glenarvan, bowing respectfully toward Lady Helena and Mary Grant, “are personages of rank in their own country.”
The warrior gazed coldly at his prisoner. An evil smile relaxed his lips for a moment; then he controlled himself, and in a voice of ill-concealed anger:
“Do you hope to deceive Kai-Koumou with lying words, accursed Pakeka? Can not the eyes of Kai-Koumou read hearts?”
And pointing to Lady Helena: “That is your wife?” he said.
“No! mine!” exclaimed Kara-Tete.
And then pushing his prisoners aside, he laid his hand on the shoulder of Lady Helena, who turned pale at his touch.
“Edward!” cried the unfortunate woman in terror.
Glenarvan, without a word, raised his arm, a shot! and Kara-Tete fell at his feet.
The sound brought a crowd of natives to the spot. A hundred arms were ready, and Glenarvan’s revolver was snatched from him.
Kai-Koumou glanced at Glenarvan with a curious expression: then with one hand protecting Glenarvan, with the other he waved off the crowd who were rushing on the party.
At last his voice was heard above the tumult.
“Taboo! Taboo!” he shouted.
At that word the crowd stood still before Glenarvan and his companions, who for the time were preserved by a supernatural influence.
A few minutes after they were reconducted to Ware-Atoua, which was their prison. But Robert Grant and Paganel were not with them.
CHAPTER XI
The Chief’s Funeral
KAI-KOUMOU, as frequently happens among the Maories, joined the title of ariki to that of tribal chief. He was invested with the dignity of priest, and, as such, he had the power to throw over persons or things the superstitious protection of the “taboo.”
The “taboo,” which is common to all the Polynesian races, has the primary effect of isolating the “tabooed” person and preventing the use of “tabooed” things. According to the Maori doctrine, anyone who laid sacrilegious hands on what had been declared “taboo,” would be punished with death by the insulted deity, and even if the god delayed the vindication of his power, the priests took care to accelerate his vengeance.
By the chiefs, the “taboo” is made a political engine, except in some cases, for domestic reasons. For instance, a native is tabooed for several days when his hair is cut; when he is tattooed; when he is building a canoe, or a house; when he is seriously ill, and when he is dead. If excessive consumption threatens to exterminate the fish of a river, or ruin the early crop of sweet potatoes, these things are put under the protection of the taboo. If a chief wishes to clear his house of hangers-on, he taboos it; if an English trader displeases him he is tabooed. His interdict has the effect of the old royal “veto.”
If an object is tabooed, no one can touch it with impunity. When a native is under the interdict, certain aliments are denied him for a prescribed period. If he is relieved, as regards the severe diet, his slaves feed him with the viands he is forbidden to touch with his hands; if he is poor and has no slaves, he has to take up the food with his mouth, like an animal.
In short, the most trifling acts of the Maories are directed and modified by this singular custom, the